


Tracer's on Junk Duty

by Normal_Ghost



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Deeper than Overwatch Ever Needed to Be, Explicit Language, Gen, Hospitals, Minor Original Character(s), Obviously not in the same canon as the other Junkrat fics XD, Off-screen Relationship(s), Overwatch - Freeform, Relationship(s), Sad with a Happy Ending, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, also mei and roadhog aren't in here that much mostly just mentioned, is junkrat's hair on fire? ;), is this partially a vent fic?, sadfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Normal_Ghost/pseuds/Normal_Ghost
Summary: After Mei's unable to focus on work because of a temper tantrum that Junkrat's throwing, Tracer offers to calm him down to shut him up. However, she really didn't expect what Junkrat's so worked up over, and she really didn't expect the reason why.





	

“Fucking hell! Old drongo digger thinks he can boss me around! Thinks he’s so smart when he can’t even shoot a gun propper without an aimbot! Fucking cocksucking seppo cunt!” The sound of Junkrat screaming profanities coupled with scattered explosions echoed through the old Overwatch outpost. Mei sat in the middle of the abandoned cafeteria with her laptop, large earmuffs over her ears, desperately trying to focus.

The zip of the chronal accelerator in the distance zigged and zagged closer and closer until Tracer appeared a few tables down from Mei. She was sitting with her work in full winter gear.

“Oh, Cheers love! I’m more than a bit early with the sandwiches today, I didn’t think anyone would be here!” Tracer started as she unloaded bags of food off her shoulders, “Oi, what on earth is that racket?”

“Junkrat’s throwing another hissy fit,” Mei grumbled, “I thought the cafeteria on the other side of the outpost would at least be a little quieter, but it’s not helping much...”

“Oh that’s rubbish--what’s he on about now?”

“Beats me,” Mei sighed, taking off her earmuffs, “but he’s been at it pretty much since you’ve left.”

“Is that why everyone else’s gone?” Tracer asked.

“No, they all went off on missions,” Mei sighed, “I thought I could stay behind and get some work done, but it’s not going very well so far.”

“Well that’s no good. How about this, I see if I can shut Junkrat up, and you make sure there’s salt and vinegar crisps saved for me at lunchtime?” Tracer offered.

“You’re a lifesaver Tracer,” Mei thanked her friend. Tracer gave Mei a quick salute, then sped around the complex to try and locate their little problem. With all the noise and a trail of destruction, it didn’t take very long to find Junkrat manually dismantling a lecture hall with his frag launcher.

“That smart little dickhead, I’ll show him what a proper defense looks like when I smack his date so far past the spawn point he’ll be in a whole ‘nother map!” Junkrat continued to screech as he threw various traps and explosives willy-nilly. Tracer wasn’t entirely sure how to approach the problem without getting a limb blown off.

“Uh, oi! Junkrat! You having a spot of trouble there?” Tracer called out from a far doorway.

“A ‘spot of trouble’?  I’m madder than a cut snake in here and you’re wondering if I’m having a ‘spot ‘o trouble?!’” he yelled as he threw a grenade towards the whiteboard, before it bounced off and hit him square in the eye.

“Well, would you want to talk about it?” she offered. Junkrat stood there, angrily panting, before he sat down and motioned her over. After waiting for the last bomb to go off, Tracer gingerly walked towards her teammate. She sat down cross-legged in front of Junkrat, waiting to hear what he had to say. They sat there silently while Junkrat just quietly seethed.

“You, uh, want to share what’s on your mind?” Tracer asked.

“76 is a right whacker,” Junkrat spat out.

“Right--um, do you want to share what exactly happened with you and Soldier 76?” Tracer tried again. Junkrat let out an exasperated sigh to try and collect himself before starting.

“So, this morning I noticed that I didn’t get my paycheck in me inbox, so I go over to 76 to get what’s mine. I must’a caught that digger in the wrong mood because he goes off as mean as cat’s piss! He goes on and on about how ‘I have no respect for other people’s property’ and ‘no respect for other people’s time’ and ‘I’m disrespectful to our scrap'--I mean--'omnic teammates’ and ‘I gotta stay more focused on the objective’ and ‘I gotta work like a proper soldier and teammate’ and other shit like that” Junkrat started. As he was talking, Tracer looked around the burning husk of a room that Junkrat had, uh, “respected”, and was having trouble getting on Junkrat’s side.

“Well, um, you’re usually thick-skinned about comments like that, aren’t you? Why should you get so worked up about what Soldier 76 thinks?” Tracer offered up.

“I never usually do! But after 76 drones on and on about my ‘un-professionalism’, _then_ has the gall to say he’s suspended my paycheck until I get meself in order! Now I say to him that I need that money because I’ve been a bit behind on me payments since I wasn’t able to get many missions on my paycheck _last_ time, and sure I may have gotten a little emotional about it, made some, uh, empty threats, but then _he_ says that he’s suspending _me_ on **_all_** _missions_ until I can prove to that whacker that I’m some sort of professional brown-noser with a stick up my ass like him” Junkrat said, smashing the steel trap next to him in a huff of rage, then putting his face in his hands. Again, Tracer wasn’t really sure how to comfort him.

“Look love, it’s not the end of the world,” Tracer started, “That’s just how Soldier 76 runs things. I’m sure it’ll only take a few weeks before you can undo--this--and show him you’re proper soldier material. And he didn’t kick you off the compound, yeah? You can still stay here with with us with room ‘n board.” Tracer reacher her hand out to put it on Junkrat’s shoulder, but decided against it at the last minute and retracted her hand back.

“You don’t understand, I just need the money,” Junkrat said, his face still in his hands, “the only reason I took this dipstick job was because they promised I could get consistent cash flow. That’s the only reason I’ve been putting up with all this, was for me hubby.”

“Your hubby?” Tracer asked, extremely confused. Of all people, she didn’t think Junkrat was married.

“Yeah,” Junkrat sighed, dropping his hands, revealing a tear-soaked and soot-covered face underneath.

“Roadhog?” Tracer guessed apprehensively.

“What? No!” Junkrat laughed, “I mean ol’ Roadhog’s one of me best mates, that bastard and I have spent every adventure together since we met when we was Junkers, but we’re not married.” Junkrat then started searching through his pockets, until he pulled out a somewhat battered photograph. He was about to show it to Tracer, but then pulled back.

“It’s--not the best picture of him, but it’s me most recent one. I lost my favorite one back on the France heist,” he said sheepishly, looking longingly at the picture before handing it over to Tracer. Gingerly, Tracer took the picture from him, and turning it over, she saw a man with burns and boils all over his body. He was laying in a hospital bed, with a respirator and other medical equipment all around him.

“That’s Noah. Quite a beaut, huh?” Junkrat joked, scratching his neck, “Been married six years. We was friends as kids, pretty much ever since I could remember, before the fusion core explosion. He was living deeper in the Outback than I was, closer to the reactor. At first he was alright, only had the same symptoms we all did, but the radiation really did a number on him.”

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-” Tracer started.

“Bah it’s alright,” Junkrat brushed it off, taking the picture back, “Radiation’s a funny thing, gave me and most of the Junkers near superpowers, but it’s been eating up Noah’s insides.”

“So that’s why you stole all that money then, for his treatment?” Tracer asked.

“Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I also did it for the thrill,” Junkrat admitted, “Noah was my partner before Roadhog, but he stopped being able to go on jobs and such. Hell, when Roadhog and I started, he couldn’t even make it outta Australia anymore.”

“Is he still there? In Australia?” Tracer asked.

“Yeah, they got him and a bunch of other blokes hooked up in Sydney Adventists, but with so many people hit with the fusion core, the rort suits keep upping the price until only the stupidly wealthy can stay,” he grumbled.

“So is that where all your treasure’s gone then?” Tracer asked.

“Well...” Junkrat laughed, “I’m not quite _that_ sweet. Half of it’s Roadhog’s of course, don’t know what he’s done with it, and when we used to do big jobs like that, I didn’t need to spend it all on Noah, so I just liked hoarding it. But since the UN’s cracked down, and ‘Overwatch’ is back in full swing, it’s been impossible to sell shit on the black market. And it’s not like I can wire over a gold bar and a Fabergé egg.”

“You still have the Fabergé eggs you’ve nicked?” Tracer asked accusatorially.

“You in the market to buy one love?” Junkrat teased.

“Junkrat, you don’t have to keep relying on those swindlers in Sydney, why haven’t you talked to Angela? I’m sure she’d be able to fix Noah up and get him out of the hospital!” Tracer offered.

“Noah’s not in the hospital no more, he’s been in hospice some time,” Junkrat said flatly, looking down at his feet, “I’ve already talked to Mercy, she says there’s nothing she could do for him that the doctors there aren’t already doing. I know that at this point sending the money is only delaying--you know--but, but I thought by taking this job I’d be able to rely on consistent pay, and I mean, I do have some cash saved up, but if even if I do spend it all now it’s not gonna be enough till next fucking payday, and 76 has the fucking bloody balls to say that I’m not working my ass off--” As Junkrat kept talking, he continued to get more and more agitated, until he leapt up screaming and started punching apart the remaining chairs, tears streaming down his face.

“Woah! Woah there Junkrat, it’s gonna be ok!” Tracer promised, starting to cry too, grabbing Junkrat’s shoulders.

“It’s not!” Junkrat screamed back, “It’s not! It’s never been ok for Noah! No matter what I do, shit keeps tearing him back down!”

“It’s not your fault!” Tracer yelled back at him, trying to find a silver lining.

“It _is_ my fault though! I never took these jobs seriously, I treated them like a joke like I treat everything. Now I’m not gonna get the cash, and they’re gonna unplug him before I can even say goodbye!”

“I’m closer to Jack, I’ll talk to him!” Tracer offered, “And if he keeps on being a butt--I’ll spot you for the cash, all of it! Heaven knows I’ve got more money than I know what to do with!” Junkrat stopped punching and his panting slowed down.

“You’d do that for me?” Junkrat asked, looking back at Tracer in complete disbelief.

“Sure I would mate,” Tracer assured him, lifting up her goggles to wipe away her tears, “I promise, I can lend you the money until you start getting paid again. I know how important family is, and you should spend as much time with Noah as you can. I mean, if Jack’s not going to let you work anyways, might as well spend the break somewhere it counts.” Junkrat continued to stare at her, not believing his ears.

“You’re pulling my leg!” Junkrat said dubiously.

“No way, you sod!” Tracer laughed, shaking his shoulders, “I’m gonna cover the cash for you, and you’re gonna catch the next plane to Sydney! Well, maybe not the next commercial flight, seeing as you’re still internationally wanted--” As Tracer puzzled how she was going to find a pilot to fly Junkrat back to Australia, he just stared back at her, completely boggled. For maybe the first time in his life, Junkrat was at a complete loss for words. After a bit of thinking, Tracer looked back up at her friend, still staring at her with wet eyes.

“Oh now don’t give me that look you’re going to make me cry again,” she teased, her voice cracking.

“I, I don’t know what to say--” Junkrat started.

“It’s not like that hasn’t stopped you before,” Tracer joked, motioning for him to come in for a hug. He hesitated, but then wrapped his lanky arms around her, both of them trying not to cry.

“I just had no idea, love. Why didn’t you tell anyone else?” Tracer asked.

“Well, I mean Roadhog’s known Noah for awhile, and it wasn’t a picnic asking Mercy for help. I mean, well you know--” he said, stumbling over his words.

“It’s hard to talk about these things,” Tracer said with understanding, “I completely get that.” The two held each other for a moment longer, before Junkrat’s arms relaxed, then he backed up and started scratching his neck nervously.

“I really owe you one mate,” Junkrat said earnestly, picking up his frag launcher.

“Maybe you can start by returning some of those treasures you stole?”

“Ha! Good one.” 

* * *

 

It was lunchtime, and the cafeteria was filled with people chatting and eating. After the sound of a few zips from her chronal accelerator, Tracer appeared at the door and started walking in.

“You were gone for such a long time! I was worried we’d have to start looking for your body!” Mei joked as she handed Tracer a sandwich and a bag of salt and vinegar chips. Tracer laughed and grabbed her food.

“Nah love, not yet!” The pair sat down at the end of one of the tables and Tracer started her lunch.

“I guess I should finish mine quickly so I can start cleaning up the mess he left before I have to go on our next mission,” Mei sighed, looking at the last half of her sandwich.

“Don’t even worry about it, Junkrat’s cleaning the last of it up now,” Tracer said, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Haha, yeah, of course,” Mei said sarcastically, not believing a word her friend said, “What were you doing back there for so long? He seemed to quiet down pretty quickly.”

“We were just having a chat.”

“I’m sure you were. You don’t have to say what happened if you don’t want to Tracer, don’t worry about it.” The pair went focused back to their lunch, sitting in relative silence. Mei had opened up her laptop and continued to work, while Tracer kept thinking about what had just happened. As they were just finishing up, a giant hand rested on Tracer’s shoulder. In fear, Mei pretended not to notice and stared intensely at her laptop screen, while Tracer slowly turned around. Roadhog was standing right behind her, his breath mask hoarsely continuing to filter air.

“Hiya, big guy,” Tracer said somewhat sheepishly, looking into the black, dead eyes on his mask. He crouched down and grabbed her hand, his head inches away from her face.

“Thank you--seriously.”

“Oh! No problem--seriously,” Tracer replied, a little more relaxed now. Roadhog let go of her hand, nodded a hello towards Mei, then walked off back to his table. If Tracer didn’t know any better, she could have sworn she thought he was smiling under that mask.

“Tracer--what happened back there?” Mei asked in disbelief once Roadhog was out of sight. Tracer just smiled.

“Was just helping out a friend,” she replied, standing up and grabbing her trash from the table, “Now if you excuse me, I’ve got to talk to Soldier 76 about something.”


End file.
